


possesion

by ro_blaze



Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Choking, Consensual Sex, Dom/sub, Dragon!Gajeel, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Other, Possessive Behavior, Royalty, Shameless Smut, consensual possessive behaviour, levy is a wonder and gajeel appreciates her, petnames galore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-07-08 07:33:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19865848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ro_blaze/pseuds/ro_blaze
Summary: marriage is supposed to be complicated and difficult to manage. so is queenship, be it to a small clan. yet, when levy is thrown into the mess by a particularly peculiar dragon, she thinks she does it quite well.she even manages to steal his heart on her way there[100% self-indulgent au for the gajevy lovefest 2019. fluff, smut and gratuitous wolrdbuilding]





	possesion

**Author's Note:**

> GOD I HAD SO MUCH FUN WRITING THIS!
> 
> editing was a pain tho
> 
> shotout to my beta maho, who was so kind to look over this story and fix my mistakes. shes amazing! 
> 
> voeda (gajeel's mother), as always, belongs to [voedda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/silv3rbloodalch3mist/pseuds/Voedda) / [silvvergears](https://silvvergears.tumblr.com/) on tumblr

The riders came by sunset. Levy walked back inside the house, the almost fresh bread she’d managed to find resting in a bag against her chest, when she heard the tell-tale sound of hoofs hitting the ground. Fear bit at her soles with every step she took. With her best reassuring smile, Levy gently urged all the children inside their only safe haven. Three pairs of small hands pushed down the door’s latch before she could do anything to help them, the older ones helping the younger gather themselves up. Inside the small house, no one paid attention to the commotion outside.

It was only after all of them were sitting comfortably — as comfortable as they could, at the least — and she began counting them when Levy noticed one of them, little Nei, was missing.

The oldest of her charges—Marya, a thin girl just past fourteen and more mature than any child her age ought to be—must have come to the same realization a second before she did, for she unlatched the door and ran outside as if mad, crying for the small child.

Dread rose up her throat, clawing at her already tortured soul. Levy barred the threshold with her own body in order to stop the rest from following, hands gripping the rotting door frame. Small bodies collided with her, but she planted her feet firm into the ground and held still.

“No one is going” she cried, her voice more confident than she ever felt. “Stay here.”

Then one of those monstrous horses stopped but a mere foot from the place where Marya had crouched over the crying Nei in a weak attempt to protect them.

Something inside her chest snapped and Levy ran outside, the old rusted sword she’d stolen from one of the dead raiders clutched in her hands.

(Naturally, of course, all the small ones followed behind her.)

The horse neighed and pulled back when she plonked herself in front of it, its nostrils flaring in what she could only assume was fear. Marya whimpered out what surely sounded like her name and Levy had to physically hold herself from turning around and comforting her. Her hands shook with the effort to hold up the sword—it was not made for someone just a bit taller than it was long. 

“Leave” Levy called in her best common tongue. Her voice carried more power than she’d ever felt in herself before. _Good. Make them fear me._ The blade shone in the orange sunlight, casting a long, broad shadow. “We don’t have anything to give you. Leave.” She gulped the bile that rose up her throat and steeled herself, shoulders held square. “Leave this place willingly. Or— “ her voice wavered. “I will make sure you never take a step outside. Ever.”

The riders murmured something between each other with quiet, hushed words she didn’t recognize. _Are they scared?_ Their horses certainly appeared so. When the blade wavered in her hands, the closest beast stepped back, pawing at the dry soil with its hoof. 

The strength had almost drained from her arms when the riders at last moved. Levy jumped, her nail digging into the half-torn leather wrappings of the handle. She gestured to the children to hide behind her. If everything else failed, they would at least be able to use her as a shield.

However, the riders did not, in fact, attack. The tallest rider—the one she hadn’t noticed, hidden in the back as they were—made their way forward through the path the others had created for them, head held high. The metal ornaments in their long, long braid sang softly with each step of their tall black horse. 

The tall rider spoke something to their people in the same language Levy couldn’t recognize. Almost immediately, two of them rode off down the road, dust rising in their wake. The rest dismounted with disheartening ease.

Levy raised the sword up in a long swing. A silent gasp tore itself from her mouth when the tip of the blade landed not even an inch from the tall rider’s face, almost brushing their jaw. A single lock of black hair fell on the ground between them.

“Stay back” she hissed, draining every drop of anger and fear in her soul into two single, venomous words.

And at sudden, she was surrounded by nocked arrows. 

One of her children let out a small sob. Two others were crying with voice. Marya’s soft whispers fell to deaf ears.

The tall raider lowered their hands slowly, as if dealing with an injured animal. With the motion, all bows went down.

“We won’t hurt you” they spoke in a careful manner, attempting to appear non-threatening. With such broad shoulders and arms like a bull, Levy doubted the tactic had ever worked for them. “Put down the blade. We offer help.”

Her blood thundered in her ears, her heart hammered against her ribs. Sweat covered her hands. Levy gulped down heavily. The back of her throat tasted like acid.

“I don’t believe you.”

“As you should” the rider agreed, inclining their head. With every motion, soft rings came from their bejeweled braid. “But I swear upon it. If you will have my word.”

Levy did not, but dropped the sword anyway. It clattered against the rocks on the road. Her fingers twitched, not used to such an uncomfortable weight. Her arms already showed the beginning signs of muscle fever, tendrons showing through the skin.

The braided raider did not approach her. That, at least, was a relief. Instead, they offered their arm for support, palm opened and facing the ground. 

Levy took the offer hesitantly and raised herself to her full of height, fingers barely ghosting over the rider’s armbands and then brushing their elbow. She came to barely halfway their chest, the smell of sweat and dust filling her nostrils. 

_Tall_.

“Is anyone hurt?” she asked instead, immediately turning to look over her charges. 

(She made sure to not show her back to any of the newcomers, even if it there was no use to it.)

The smallest ones clung to her legs and sobbed, chubby fingers tugging on her clothes. Levy gave her best soothing smile and leaned down to stroke their heads, whispering gentle words of comfort. There was nothing else she could offer them.

“What happened to your home?” the braided stranger asked, kneeling down to help one of the children get on their feet.

“A raid.” Everyone seemed alright. Marya held Nei in her arms, the triplets were checking everyone for bruises, and even brooding Joah did their best to comfort the crying child that clung to his hip. “It’s common, here.”

The rider spoke soft encouragement to the child still leaning against them, then turned around. Their companions, whatever the orders had been, had dispersed through the ruined village. Now, they returned, bringing survivors along and helping the ones who could not walk on their own. Many had been taken by the raiders, but villagers had long grown used to the frequent attacks and knew how to hide.

Only causing some minor commotion, two riders that’d been sent away returned, bringing help along. Three long carriages pulled by draft horses stopped near where the group had first dismounted. Next to them, the riders’ own mounts appeared small—Levy could hardly believe she thought them big.

With a sharp order from their braided leader, the riders began helping her people settle into the carriages. As they were mostly elderly or children, the strangers’ help seemed greatly appreciated. (Levy did not fail to see that the leader did not hesitate to join in the labor instead of just leaving their companions.) People pushed and pulled each other, curses in various tongues ran out. Some were sick, some old, some injured — the carriages couldn’t fit them all. The ones in condition were put to ride the horses, but even that proved not a good solution. By the time the last child had settled, the sky had gone dark and littered with stars.

Levy didn’t have the chance to as much put her foot on the carriage. Busy helping her children settle, she’d forgotten to look out for herself, too. A warm hand settled on her shoulder. She turned around and lost her balance in the haste. Only her firm hold of the wooden bar—and the firm hand resting on the small of her back—prevented her from colliding with the person behind her.

“No” the braided leader spoke, their voice as firm as their hold was. “You ride with me.”

“Excuse me?!” she cried, her voice rising higher than she intended. Embarrassment brought heat to her face. “I need to watch over them! They’re my children! I’m not something you can command to your whims—”

“You ride with me” they ordered.

A whimper slipped from her mouth, the protests suddenly dying in her chest. Levy nodded and followed, eyes lowered to the ground. Their voice made the blood thunder in her ears, made her muscles suddenly remember how exhausted she was. _Of course, there isn’t any space left for me._ As small as she was, even she couldn’t fit inside.

Two large hands, calloused but strangely careful, gripped her waist and lifted her with practiced ease. Soft fur brushed her hands, warm muscle between her legs. The rider mounted behind her and settled into their saddle, one hand resting on her thigh while the other held the reins.

“Ahead” they called. And they rode.

* * *

The village that welcomed them seemed no bigger than the one they’d just left. Yet the further they rode down between the mixture of yurts and huts, more people came by. Parents ran out to greet their children, blushing newlyweds came together after long days of separation, riders eagerly told tales to their families. Two elderly ladies helped the children and the injured down and led them towards what resembled a healer’s tent.

Levy tumbled down the uncomfortable tall saddle when the weight behind her disappeared, her fingers gripping the stallion’s soft mane in desperation. Her ears caught a soft whisper she couldn’t quite understand, and then she was being lifted and lowered onto the ground.

Her rider ran their hands over her arms with a gentleness that took her by surprise. Up to this close, their breath warm against her cheek, Levy had the opportunity to see more of the face she’d once assumed cold and stoic—the barely-noticeable wrinkle forming on their brow, the frown that pulled their lips down. _A frown doesn’t suit this face,_ she thought, before her sense came to her.

“I’m fine” she croaked out when she found her voice, slowly raising her hands upwards.

“You have a bruise.” Two fingers ran again her shoulder, ghosting over her skin. “Right here.”

“I’m _fine_ ” Levy repeated, louder this time. She’d had to bite her lip to fight back the pain. “I’m fine. No pain. I need to—”

“The children will be alright” the rider said. They didn’t step back, but pulled their hands away as if noticing her discomfort. “Right now you need rest. All of you do.”

Her mouth opened to disagree, but Levy found no words. So she closed it and stared. The rider raised one eyebrow at her direction and crossed their arms over their chest. She swore she saw a ghost of a smile on the corner of their lips.

“We can sit and stare at each other all day,” they suggested at last, “or we can go and look over your children and get you some rest.”

“‘We?’” _There is no we_. “As thankful as I am for your help, I’m afraid I still don’t know you.”

“There will be time for getting to know each other after I’m done with this mess.” They gripped her shoulder with the very same peculiar gentleness. This time, her eyes didn’t mist. “Now, are you going to walk by yourself or do I have to carry you?”

 _Carry me,_ a dark voice from somewhere deep inside spoke, but Levy pushed it down and ignored the heat that seemed to spread over her face. No stranger before had spoken so freely to her. Her people were a wary kind, never friendly or playful in the manner these riders seemed to be. It was so peculiar.

“My king!” someone called. “My king, the council is calling for your attendance!”

The tall rider let out a deep, long-suffering sigh and shook their head as if to themselves, the beads in their braid ringing softly with the motion. A miserable expression had etched itself into their face. 

“Seems I have to go” they amended with the most tortured smile Levy had ever seen. “There’s a big, long tent with a blue flap just there. A lady with long hair and crown should be there. If you tell her Gajeel sends you, she’s going to let you insi—”

“Your Majesty!”

The rider— _the king_ —flinched, their ears twitching. If she hadn’t been frozen solid, Levy would have found it endearing.

“I’m coming, goddamn it!” they called back, raising their voice to be heard over the noise. “Those old farts can’t wait even for a moment...”

Grumbling under their breath, the king walked away. 

Levy stood where they left her, feet as if planted into the ground, and stared after them for a while. She walked methodically to where she’d been ordered, struggling to put one foot in front of the other. She’d ridden with a king. She’d spoken and dared to talk back to the king.

Gods be good, she’d threatened to _kill_ them.

The tent with the blue flap stood wide open, the bloody-familiar sound of many people talking at the same time coming from it. When she peered inside, Levy saw a half of her charges gathered inside, in various stages of getting small injuries—bruises and cuts and swells— fixed. As the king had told her, a lady with long dark hair walked between the children, whispering gentle reassurements as she bandaged them. Although they didn’t seem to understand much of what she said, her soothing presence calmed even the most unruly ones. A child of no more than five, with matching river of dark hair, followed by her heels. Both the lady and the child bore thin circlets of woven metal, each with a single gem resting on their brow.

Levy cleared her throat softly and took a step inside, hesitant. The lady lifted her head, concern etched in her timelessly beautiful face. Her hair shifted as she moved, its smooth inky surface reflecting the orange glow of the tent fire.

“How can I help you?” she asked, her voice carrying the same barely noticeable lilt the rider—the _king_ —had. 

“Gajeel sends me” Levy said, just as she’d been told. “I was to— ”

The lady grabbed her hands and pulled her over before she could finish her words. Levy sputtered as she tried to regain her footing, her hands gripping the lady’s slender but strong arms for support. Slowly, the two sank into the floor, the fire licking the soles of Levy’s sandals before she pulled her feet away. The child— _the lady’s child?_ —carried over a bowl of water, the small gems laced into its midnight hair ringing as it knelt by them. 

Levy let out a pained gasp when the lady ran her hand over her bruised shoulder. She had the touch of a healer, gentle but firm. Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes.

“I see, I see” the lady mumbled, as if talking to herself. “How much like my nephew… Bringing home another bird with a broken wing. Brings back memories…”

The small child let out a giggle, pulling the hem of their tunic over to cover their knobby knees. Levy tilted her head, torn between asking all the questions on her mind and sitting back to watch.

“Oh well, seems we have more work to do than I anticipated.” The healer smiled, then cracked her fingers. “Wendy dear, hand me the cloth, please…? I need to fix this little songbird before your cousin comes crashing in.”

* * *

King Gajeel, dubbed the Silver Dragon by his people, was indeed a hospitable person.

(Or dragon, depending on how far you went when separating humanoid species.)

His small village had accepted them with open arms. From the people she’d been able to befriend (namely his aunt Grandeeney, the village’s head healer, and his godfather Riri “the Panther”, head counselor and renowned warrior), Levy learned their land knew the pain of frequent raids as much as her own people did. Only recently, with the Silver Dragon and his father and grandmother before him, they’d gotten the chance to taste peace. Many refugees from different parts of the plains huddled together into the growing village, all of whom agreed to follow their young king.

Space was scarce, in a village small as this one, and there wasn’t quite as enough for the newly arrived refugees. Until new yurts were sewn and new huts built for everyone, people had to make up with sharing homes with some of the older settlers. No one seemed to mind the situation. People were used to sharing whatever little they had, to helping the ones with no choice.

Levy had been invited, quite warmly, by the King himself. (And that had been an ordeal by itself. Even now, the memory of his awkward questions brought her a fit of giggles.)

His Majesty often rode away, for hunt or for scout, but rarely returned after the sun had set. His Majesty had very peculiar habits of taking care of his yurt all by himself, rarely allowing a servant inside to clean it for him. His Majesty was good with the people who respected him and loved playing with children when he wasn’t off training, or hunting, or ruling.

His Majesty also happened to snore just a bit while he slept, but Levy found that particular detail strangely adorable and didn’t comment on it.

She sat by the fire and put the bowl with soup on the ground by her feet. Dinner had long passed, but she’d been busy helping lady Grandeeney at the healer’s tent—they’d delivered a child just by noon—and whoever was on cooking duty had made sure to save her some of the meal. She scooted closer to the fire and lifted the bowl to her lips. The wood was warm, steam rising from the golden broth inside.

Someone sat right beside her and stretched a pair of long legs towards the fire, old leather boots cracking softly. Levy lifted her head to greet, a genuine smile pulling up her lips when her eyes lit up with recognition. 

“My lord,” she said with a small bow of her head.

“My lady” lord Riri mimicked, his smile warm and content. “Had a long day? You seem late with your supper.”

“We had a birth just before.” She took a sip and sighed contently. “A healthy babe, fortunately. You should have seen them kicking. The mother is resting.”

The two spoke easily as always. Riri, one of His Majesty’s oldest friends and supporters, had been kind with her from the moment they met, as if somehow distant at first. Once she’d gotten the chance to meet and speak with his wife (the village’s loremaster, lady Shagotte) and his small daughter, he’d easily grown comfortable in her presence, telling stories from the king’s eventful childhood and helping her ease into her new home.

Riri had also happened to be one of the most honest people she’d gotten the chance to meet, never hesitating to speak truly even if it would not be advised. Levy knew His Majesty had learned it from him, even if the king’s own brand of honesty wasn’t the kindest one.

(Once, just a couple days after they’d arrived, he’d told her she looked like a ghoul and almost sent her crying. It had taken some gentle explaining from Grandeeney to understand what he probably meant that she needed to eat more food and gain meat on her bones. When he later found out she’d almost started crying, he spent a whole day attempting to apologize and almost force-feeding her. Levy found it all adorable, despite her better judgment.)

“Lord Riri?” she asked, tilting her head to look towards the old warrior. “May I ask you something?”

Lord Riri nodded and faced her fully. In his youth he’d taken a knife that had almost killed him and lived, a single pale scar above his eye to show for it.

“Is there any reason for people to… stare at me when I walk by?”

“Stare how?” 

“Well. Um.” Levy put down the bowl and turned around to face him fully. “It’s not in a rude manner, or anything bad, just… sometimes, I get these strange looks. I don’t understand. Have I done something?”

Lord Riri seemed to hesitate with his answer. 

“My Lady— ”

“Just Levy.”

“Levy.” The corner of his mouth twitched. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed it, but… our beloved idiot of a king isn’t known to be the kind of person to share property. At least, not willingly.”

She blinked, confused.

“Is… is that so? He’d never seemed to mind sharing with me. He gave me half his furs to sleep in and often leaves his meals… for… me...”

Lord Riri gave her a small smile. Levy looked down at her sandaled feet, letting the words sink in. Heat rushed to her face.

“Oh.”

“Indeed, oh.” Lord Riri nudged her arm gently. “But it’s alright. He seems… fond of you.”

“Do you know why?”

“Why what?”

“Why he seems so comfortable around me? Sharing with me?” Levy elaborated. She could feel the heat radiating from her face, her words coming faster than she intended them. “Why he seems… fond of me, as you put it.”

“I have one small theory” he admitted.

“Tell me?” she asked, having long forgotten about her supposed meal.

Lord Riri reached out and gently squeezed her hand. He was smiling, warmth and joy radiating from his face.

“My dear Lady. I’m afraid our King has already claimed you as his own. Dragons are quite the territorial creatures, don’t you know?”

Levy didn’t quite understand what he meant. At least, not until she walked back into the yurt she shared with the king. She found him sitting on his side of the bedding, pulling together the ties at the end of his long braid. He must have been brushing his hair, for all his brushes sat by his feet, beads and other jewels waiting for to be woven back into their places.

She greeted him with a smile and settled into her own sitting spot. Once she lowered her shawl, Levy ran her favorite comb—the one His Majesty gifted her to on the day celebrating the first moon of their arrival—through her curls, humming a song she remembered her mother singing. Her hair had grown longer, the tips reaching her shoulder blades.

“Levy?” she heard His Majesty call. Her hands stilled, still holding the comb. “I want to ask you something.”

“What is it?” she asked, smiling shyly when he sat down next to her. He was so much taller and bigger, it was hard to not feel small around him. 

The king reached out, gently taking one of her hands in his. His fingers were thicker, longer, stronger, his palm board, callouses from long years of war and hunt pressing against her skin. When he caught her eyes, Levy saw the corners of his lids crinkle in the same way they did whenever he gave her one of his small smiles.

“Marry me.”

* * *

The engagement went by like the wind, like water slipping from cracks between her fingers. It lasted just enough for her mother-in-law to arrive and for the village to fill up with guests. Though, Levy supposed, such were matters when marrying into royalty.

Queen Voeda—or _mama_ , as she’d insisted to be called since the first moment she’d arrived—came by like a hurricane, bringing a small crowd of well-wishers and friends and in-laws to be at her heels. Levy met all six of her kingly spouse’s maternal aunts, each of them more fun and colorful than the last, and got to listen to adorable stories from his wild childhood. Her favorite was auntie Llyra, the fourth in a line of seven sisters, who happened to be the best storyteller of them all and who knew just how to wrap up a bruised ankle. 

(Gajeel himself did not appreciate the stories, but a couple inexperienced, clumsy kisses were enough to keep him content while she gorged herself upon the warmth of having a family again. Oh, did he know how to kiss.)

The wedding itself came faster than she’d expected. Preparations were rushed, the guests already gathered and pushing the village’s limit at the seams. Merchants brought food and drinks and rich fabrics and all sorts of colorful jewelry. And before long, Levy found herself shaking with excitement as her mother-in-law wove flowers into her hair.

“You are beautiful, dear” Voeda told her, helping her to her feet once she was done. Her eyes filled up with pride as she brought the silk scarf over her shoulders. “Are you ready?”

“No” Levy admitted, letting out a nervous laugh. She brought her hands to cover her mouth. Then she screamed into them. “I feel like throwing up.”

Her breath caught in her chest. Blood thundered in her ears. She had trouble forming sentences and putting her thoughts into words, so she looked at her mother-in-law. A whimper slipped from her mouth. 

Voeda laughed and brought an arm around her, holding her close. The two of them were almost of height. Levy couldn’t not notice how much Gajeel had taken after his mother — the rich black mane of curls, the deep crimson eyes with their playful twinkle, even the crooked smile. Voeda managed to be gentle and soothing without being too soft. Her hands brushed over the smooth silk of the dress, adjusting the sash over her shoulder and the golden cord around her waist. Her fingers gently traced the rich embroidery on the drape’s hem.

(Explaining to the poor tailor how the dress worked had been an ordeal in and of itself.)

“And why is that?” she asked, managing to sound concerned even though her eyes were laughing. “Has my hatchling done anything to harm you?”

“It’s not that” Levy admitted, averting her eyes. She couldn’t face her mother-in-law. Instead, she looked down, moving her toes lightly. Her feet were bare, the long folded skirts gently brushing her ankles. “I just—I think—I’m just scared. We’ve known each other for—how much? Four moons? Five?” The air caught in her chest. “What if he gets tired of me after the first couple of weeks? What if I make him unhappy? What if I hu— ”

“And what if you make him happier than he ever was?” Voeda asked, squeezing her hands. “My dear girl. What if you are the only thing he’s ever needed? What if you’re what he’s been searching for this whole life?”

Levy had nothing to say, tears gathering at the corners of her eyes.

Voeda smiled and adjusted the scarf again, then took her hand and led her outside.

* * *

Levy shook as they rode away, the village shrinking into the distance behind them.

“How far are we going?” she asked, one hand holding the reins loosely. Her fingers ran through the stallion’s soft black fur.

“You will see.” Gajeel nudged her gently, his arm wrapped around her waist. “Cold?”

“Very.” She leaned against his chest, desperate for his warmth. His laughter filled her ears. “Don’t laugh. You’re being so mean to me.”

“I’m sorry, dear lady wife.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Alas, your hair is getting into my mouth and preventing me from any further apology.”

Levy hit him.

They kept bantering back and forth as they rode away, Gajeel’s booming laughter echoing in the empty grasslands that surrounded them. The night wind blew past them, tugging at their clothes and hair. A bird stopped to greet them before flying again. A smile pulled at the ends of her mouth, her cheeks hurting from her endless giggles. _Why was I so scared?_

At last, the village’s flickering lights disappeared behind a small hill. On the other side of it a simple white tent awaited them. Someone had lit a fire for them and it shone brightly, chasing the night chills.

Gajeel stopped a couple of yards from the tent and unmounted, his long braid swaying with the motion. Levy made to follow along, but he picked her before she could, easily carrying her into his arms. She let out a happy sigh and snuggled into his chest, letting his warmth envelop her. His hold was strong and steady, his steps confident and easy. In his arms, she felt safe and sound, as if no one was able to hurt her.

The tent welcomed them with its burning fire and its soft bed and its sweet-smelling herbs. Levy took a look around, enjoying her (for once) high vantage point.

“It’s beautiful” she whispered. It was everything she’d imagined and more.

“Right now, I can think of something far more beautiful than our honeymoon suite, love” Gajeel said, making her laugh. Then he gestured to the bed. “May I, my lady wife?”

 _Lady wife. Love._ It was almost too good to be true. Unable to trust her mouth, Levy gave a small nod.

His hands ran over her arms, slow and gentle, as if taking care of a skittish wild animal. He removed her scarf first, letting it fall to the padded ground. The golden cord followed, then sash, then the long drape, until she stood in just her bodice and skirt.

A small gasp slipped from her lips when Gajeel placed his hands on her waist. Against her chilly skin, he felt as if burning, and Levy took a step closer, chasing after his warmth. His hands moved higher and higher, trailing the sides of her breasts, up to her shoulders, her neck, before they tangled into her hair. 

“Careful” he teased, pulling one of his hands back. One of the flowers — a collection of lotuses — rested between his fingers. “You know, dragons do bite.”

“I’m not afraid of getting hurt.” She rose on her toes and pressed a shy kiss to his lips. The purr radiating from him made her smile. “You are here to keep me safe, aren’t you?”

Gajeel let out a long hum, then resumed his task, nimble fingers pulling the fabric away. At last, she stood bare in front of him, save for the golden circlet on her brow and the flowers in her hair. Where his fingers touched her skin, fire burned, chasing the cold and setting her aflame. Her hands itched to press against him, feel the silk of his hair against her skin, feel the muscle of his arms shift under her touch.

“Sit down, love” he told her as he pulled his tunic over his head, the beads in his braid ringing softly. “I need your help with something.”

Levy complied to his request with eagerness that surprised her, but soon enough her obedience was rewarded when he sat down in front of her and directed her how to unbraid him. The intimacy of the action made her want to crawl to him and never let him go. She paid attention to every little bead, every ornament, every tie, slowly making her way up until his hair splayed in front of her.

“Beautiful” she breathed, reaching to brush a lock of hair from his cheek. His hair felt silky smooth, soft against her skin, but strong and think. “ _Beautiful_.”

Gajeel caught her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm. Then her wrist. Then up and up and up, until she was melting beneath him, eager to feel his lips against her, to become one.

He took his time with her, as he’d promised her once, touching her just enough to keep her riled but not enough to truly satisfy the greedy beast in her ribcage. He was careful but not gentle, knowing where to caress, where to push and where to strike. Nimble fingers made their way to parts of her she’d never imagined, hot, burning mouth pressing against her in ways she’d never thought she’d beg for.

And gods be good, did he make her beg.

When he was finished with her, hand-shaped marks colored her hips, flowers of purple against the brown of her skin. Levy couldn’t quite manage to crawl her way, her legs heavy as if made from lead, so Gajeel brought the cup with water to her lips and helped her drink, his free hand supporting the back of her head.

“Too far?” he asked once she was done, his thumb brushing the corner of her mouth.

“No.” She let her head fall against his chest and tucked herself into his warmth. “Perfect.”

“As much as I appreciate the strokes to my ego,” Gajeel began, fingers running up and down her thigh, “I don’t want you getting hurt, treasure.”  
  
“Treasure?” 

“Dragons hold treasures, don’t they?” He pressed a kiss to her temple, his nose brushing her skin. “You are my treasure. The most precious in the world.”

Levy hid her face into his chest and spun the lock of hair between her fingers, mumbling her gratitude against his skin. Her cheeks felt like burning. Precious. No one had called her precious before—not quite in the same manner he had, not with the same intimacy his voice carried.

“Gajeel?” she called, lifting her head to meet his eyes.

“Hm?”

“I think I’m falling in love with you.”

“That’s the whole point of getting married, isn’t it?” His eyes twinkled. He bent his head forward and stole a kiss from her, teeth scraping against the softness of her lip in a way that made her whine. “I think. I kinda fell for you at the moment you dared to kill me.”

Levy whined again, hiding her face when he laughed at her. 

“It was beautiful” Gajeel continued, his hands ghosting over her hips and pulling her closer so their foreheads pressed together. His warm breath tickled her cheek. “Never seen someone your size lift a sword that big. The moment I saw you I knew I wanted to marry you.”

“Just because the sword?” Levy asked, peering through her fingers.

“I mean, the face you made helped too.” He smirked and leaned closer, biting her shoulder. Playfully. “You looked ready to kill me. And fuck, it was beautiful.” His smirk softened into a smile. “And then I got to know you. I learned so much about you. You like reading. You have the biggest sweet tooth I’ve ever seen. You sleep in at every opportunity you get. You whine about your hair, even though it looks like a puffy cloud and I love touching it. Your nose wrinkles when you laugh, right here.” He pressed a finger to the top of her nose, making her giggle. “And then, when you said yes, I just... I knew I can’t let you go. Ever.”

“Ever…?”

“Ever, _Levy_.” The sound of her name resonated somewhere deep in her being. “What is a dragon without a treasure?”

Then he kissed her, his mouth fire against her, and she melted, clinging to him until there was not a breath of space between them.

* * *

Levy dipped her finger into the bowl, then slowly trailed it over her lips. The crimson lip paint brought a stark contrast against the dark brown on her skin. Her reflection shifted as she tilted her head to the side, inspecting herself. The bracelets on her wrists clicked against each other in a gentle song.

The cough almost made her drop the bowl in her hands.

“Why?” Gajeel asked, managing to sound both dramatic and exasperated in the same tone. 

“Why what?” 

Her poor kingly spouse looked more uncomfortable with each moment. Levy would have noticed, if she hadn’t been enjoying the sight of his very adorable, very red ears.

“Why the red lips?” he said at last. It almost sounded as if he was… sulking?

“I thought it would look nice with my dress.” She looked away. “Why? Doesn’t it look good?”

“It does!” he reassured her. “Just...”

“Don’t,” her voice cracked and broke, “ don’t you… like it?”

“Fuck, I love it.” Gajeel hesitated, then reached out a pulled her into his arms. His fingers trailed up the length of her arm, ghosting over her collarbones. “I want to kiss you fucking so much right now.”

At any other moment, she’d have gladly accepted his very affectionate, very needy touch. _Please, kiss me, take me away, make love to me._ Her fingers twitched. Alas, they had an important meeting to attend to, and she’d spent the last couple days panicking and worrying over every detail. Levy wanted to make a good first impression to all those other clan heads, make them believe Gajeel had picked right when he’d picked her. Arriving late to her own celebration, with a disheveled appearance on the top, would show them the opposite of what she wanted.

“I want to kiss you too” Levy told him softly, caressing his cheek. When he leaned into her palm, her defenses broke down and she cooed. “I want to kiss you all night long. But...”

“Duties. I know. Kingly duties, queenly duties.” He pressed a gentle kiss to her wrist. “You’re going to do great. I believe in you.”

* * *

Levy did indeed do great.

Or at least she was, until the celebration came to its end and her King all but dragged her back to their tent, a steel-tight but gentle hold on her upper arms.

“Gajeel?” Levy asked tentatively when the tent flap fell behind them. “Is everything alright?” When he didn’t answer, she stepped closer and touched his elbow. Her voice softened. “Did I do anything to upset you, my love?”

“No.” His face showed the opposite, his shoulders tense, his fingers twitching. “Get on your knees.”

“What a— ”

 _“Get on your knees”_ Gajeel growled, power radiating from his voice.

Her body obeyed before her brain caught up. Her knees crumbled beneath her weight and Levy had to reach out to catch herself on her hands. Her shoulders shook, her heart beating so fast she could hear it in her ears. 

Something collapsed behind her, knees brushing against her bare calves. Then one hand tangled into her hair and yanked back, further and further, until it almost hurt. 

“Do you know how it feels like?” Gajeel hissed in her ear, hot breath wafting over her skin. “Watching my wife talking to people who aren’t me, dressed like this? My wife, laughing over what someone else said? My mate, _my goddamn fucking mate_ , dancing with someone who isn’t _me_?!”

Levy whimpered softly when he dropped her hair, letting her head fall forward. Her legs pressed together, fighting the rising heat. When she opened her mouth to speak, no answer came out. She squirmed when he groped her thighs, but when his hand reached under her skirt and rubbed her roughly, she cried his name like the good girl she knew she was. She’d never been able to say no to him.

“You like it, don’t you? My little whore of a wife.” His touch was rough, making her tremble as he pushed one finger into her. “You like it when I put my marks on you. You like it when I make you scream, when I show everyone who you belong to.”

“To you” Levy finished for him, needing no urging. “Always to you, my love.”

She didn’t know if his possessiveness fed on her eagerness, or if it was the other way around. She just knew that, since the first time he’d grabbed her in the middle of a conversation and proceeded to kiss her hard enough to make her forget her own name, she’d been more than willing to indulge into his unhealthy habit. 

Gajeel let out a growl and leaned closer, fangs sinking into the soft spot just below her left ear. Blood trickled down her neck, dripping into the hollow of her collarbones and disappearing somewhere beneath her dress. When he released her to lap and suck on the bite, she dug her nails into his arm for much-needed support. Her vision flickered, black spots dancing behind her eyelids.

His clawed hands did quick work of their clothes and soon they were bare, skin pressed against skin. Levy whimpered when he went back to fingering her, easily finding that one spot and hitting against it over and over. With her back to him, she had no way to see his face, touch him, feel him. 

A needy cry fell from her mouth when he stopped, hand resting limply against her thigh.

“Gajeel” she whined, her voice rising in pitch. “You can’t do this to me.”

“I can do whatever the fuck I want with you, my treasure.” Gajeel trailed his hand over her neck, then squeezed just hard enough to make her back arch. “I can bend you over right here and use that sweet ass of yours until you bleed. I can put you on those pretty hands and knees and ride you all night. I can pump you full of my seed until you tear at the seams.” He squeezed again, just to emphasize. “You are mine, Levy. Now be a good little girl and beg.”

“Please” Levy whispered, her nails digging into his arm. “Please. Just for me. Just this time. You know I’m a good girl.”

And beg she did.

* * *

Levy did not lift her head to face her King as she quickly bandaged his injured arm, making sure to pull the bandages just a bit harder than she had to, press her fingers against the bruised flesh just a little firmer. To his credit, he didn’t flinch even once.

“You’re angry at me” Gajeel said after she was done tying the ends. 

Levy didn’t even deign to look at him, quietly collecting her medical supplies in the same box she’d received them. At her lack of answer, he reached and took her wrist gently. She slapped his hand away and turned away, crossing her legs under her.

“Levy.”

Ignoring him had always been harder, more so after they had gotten married. Fortunately for her (and unfortunately for him), Levy had the uncanny ability to be the only one able to stand up to him, combined with annoyingly ugly stubbornness. And, well. Injured pride and nigh-unstoppable worry.

“Levy, look at me.”

She got up and smoothed her skirt, then walked over to exit the tent. Her fingers brushed over the flap, just to lift it, when two hands pulled her by the shoulders and turned her around with practiced ease.

“ _Don’t touch me_ ” she hissed, rearing back away from him. Her back collided with one of the support pillars. “Just don’t.”

Gajeel raised one eyebrow at her, but did drop his hands, holding them in front of him to show he was not doing anything. Like dealing with an injured animal. Hysterical laughter bubbled in her chest. The scene was _bloody_ familiar.

“Yes. I am angry” Levy spoke after she was done with her hysterics, cradling one of her arms against her chest. When he reached to touch her, she bared her teeth at him. “Of course I’m angry! You could have died!”

Her shrill cry did make him flinch and Gajeel made a motion to cover his sensitive ears, stopping himself at the last moment. Despite her clear protests, he easily caught her and wrapped his arms around her. Her trashing stopped and Levy melted against him, hiding her face into his chest.

“You could have died” she whispered, fighting the urge to cry. Tears filled her eyes.

“You’re not getting rid of me so easily” he teased, but there was no bite in his voice. His hand came to touch her hair, claw-tipped fingers combing through her curls. “Do you have so little faith in me, treasure?”

Levy let out an indignant snort and buried her face further into his chest, her face heating up when he laughed. Despite that, the tension in her shoulders slowly began melting.

“I don’t want you starting fights with random people over me, silly dragon” she whispered, voice watery. She blinked away the tears in her eyes. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Everyone who dares to touch you deserves death, love.”

She snorted again, but found herself unable to answer. Gajeel’s gentle caress, combined with the steady beat of his heart against her ear ( _I’m here, treasure_ ) drained all the anger from her body. 

“That doesn’t mean you have to throw yourself like a rabid dog, idiot” Levy said after a while, reaching to brush the tears from her eyes.

Gajeel hummed, his hand dropping from her hair to rest on the small of her back. She held back a whine at the loss of his ministration, but curled herself further into his body and let him pull her back towards their bedding.

“It means I can do whatever I see fit to defend your honor” he insisted, gently pinching her side when she snorted again. “You’re my wife, my queen, my mate and my most precious treasure. If killing anyone who as much as glares at you is what I have to do, I will.”

Levy pulled back with a gasp and hit him gently, expecting him to crack a smile and laugh. Instead, when she looked at him, she found him completely serious, the twinkle in his eyes sparkling to a righteous flame. 

“You’re not serious” she tried.

“I’m completely serious, Levy.” Gajeel caressed her face, thumb gently brushing the bruise she’d acquired during the ordeal. “If I hadn’t stepped in time, do you know what could have happened? If I had come just a moment later?”

The bruise did not hurt as much as it had hurt back then, but the memory was enough to render her speechless. Colors flashed behind her eyelids—the raunchy remarks of drunk merchants, the grabby hands, the anger at her clear rejection, the burn of pain against her cheekbone, the blood trickling down her chin from where the slap had split her lip. Guards had been around, fortunately—leaving the Queen alone had turned dangerous long ago—and stepped in fast enough to defend her. Someone had managed to find Gajeel and bring him over and, well, everything had ended quickly.

_And bloody._

“A bruise or two can’t compare to losing you” Levy told him. Her shaking fingers— _why am I shaking?_ —reached out to grip his hand. “I can’t lose you, do you understand? I— _I can’t—_ ”

His thumb never stopped stroking her cheek, reaching to brush away the tears. His lips pressed against her brow, whispering words of love and comfort. How he could be so strong, so brave, she would never understand. 

His hand lifted up her chin and Gajeel kissed her, silencing her sobs. His mouth was warm, gentle against her, tongue running over the seam of her lips but never pushing past. His hands trailed up and down her back, helping the tension wash away. Whatever willpower held her until then finally snapped, and she crumbled into his arms, crying softly.

“You’re not going to lose me, treasure” Gajeel promised her, the corner of his mouth rising in that so familiar crooked smile. “I’m here. I’m not leaving you.”

“How can you be so sure?” she asked, hiccuping as she rubbed her eyes.

“I once gave you my word, don’t you remember? Said I won’t hurt you. Well, if leaving you will hurt you...” His eyes twinkled. “A dragon never goes back on their word.”

Laughter bubbled in her chest. Levy wiped away whatever was left from her tears and fell against him, kissing him again and again, whispering her love every time she had enough breath to speak.

And when the kisses grew hotter and his hands dipped lower and lower, she only clung closer to him, dragging her nails over the mixture of scales and skin, biting his ear in the way she knew he liked, rolling her hips against him just to hear the growl rising from his throat.

The firmness under her shifted and Levy let out a soft gasp when Gajeel rolled them around, pushing her under him. The thick bedding cushioned her fall and she buried her face into the silky-soft fur, knowing well she could not face him. Heat filled her face, embarrassed but excited at the same time.

“Tease.” Gajeel kissed her shoulder, brushing her hair away and to the side. “I thought you were still upset?”

“I’ve found that making love to this one person tends to help me forget everything” she said, covering her mouth with her hand so she would not laugh.

“Should I be jealous?” His fingers dragged over the hem of her dress, the tips of his claws barely touching her. “I don’t like anyone touching what is mine...”

“Don’t worry.” Levy tilted her head enough to face him and smiled. “I have more than just a strong fondness for this dragon, don’t you know?”

“Is that so?”

She hummed in answer and giggled. 

Gajeel smirked and hooked the tip of his claws under the fabric of her neckline. Then, he yanked hard, tearing the dress down the length of her spine. Levy gasped, then covered her mouth, liquid fire surging through her and right towards her center.

“How about now?” His voice was a gentle whisper against her ear. “Do you have anything to say, treasure?”

“Nothing” she whispered, her voice caught somewhere in her chest. Speaking was hard, breathing was hard, thinking was hard. “Nothing, love.”

Gajeel let out a pleased hum and continued his way, tearing his way through her clothes until she was bare to his touch. His hands slid up her calves, pushing her legs apart and laughing at her feeble resistance. 

“You’re so sweet, my little gem.” His lips trailed over her shoulder to her spine, his laughter growing louder when she whimpered. “Now, be a good girl and stay still while I make you feel good.”

Levy nodded and lowered her head to the cushion of her arms, squeezing her eyes shut.

Gajeel made his way towards her center slowly, pressing warm kisses all the way up her thighs. She shivered and trembled, her nails digging into her arms. When his mouth stopped mere inches from where she needed him, Levy wailed. 

“No, don’t stop!” She slammed her hands down on the bedding and tried to lift her hips, to move, but he held her firmly in place. “Please… please, love, I need you so much.”

At first he did nothing, his claws just digging further into her hips, almost enough to tear through her flesh. Then Gajeel bit the inner side of her thigh, fangs easily sinking deep. Levy let out a shrill cry and buried her face into the bedding, her feet kicking into the air. And when the magic came in, filling her where the blood was supposed to be, she cried again. 

Gajeel held her still despite her trashing, lapping against her skin with the hunger of a starved beast. When he finished, she was long limp, her voice down to a whimper, stars exploding behind her eyelids. Levy let out a small giggle when he grabbed her hair and yanked her head back, still bloody fangs sinking into her neck.

The magic filled her to the brim. She moaned his name, her toes curling, her center growing hotter and hotter. And then his fingers slipped in and hit her just where she needed, thumb rubbing her clit, and she came, a scream tearing from her mouth.

“So beautiful.” He pressed a bloody kiss to her shoulder and caressed her hair. “That’s my girl.”

In any other situation, Levy would have been ashamed by coming nigh untouched. But Gajeel knew just how to push her, just how to take her to the edge and then further. And the rare abuse of his magic made it just so better.

“Again” she begged, after her high died down enough for her to be able to speak. “M—make me—Make me come again. _Please_.”

“Aren’t we greedy today.” Gajeel kissed his way down her spine and pushed her legs apart, his nose brushing her already bruised skin. “You’re so lucky I’m feeling generous.”

“I’m always lucky.”

His tongue pushed against her core and slipped inside easily, making her mewl in appreciation. Gajeel hummed, his thumb rubbing her clit, as he worked his mouth on her. His other hand rested still on her hip, his claws moving up and down in a comforting manner. Compared to his previous abuse, it was sweet relief — slow when it was once fast, gentle when it was once rough, but all the same good enough to make her cry.

When her climax drew closer, Gajeel pulled back and smacked her behind. Levy covered her mouth, eyes filled with tears.

“You know what to do” he said, his thumb still pressed to her clit to keep her on the edge. “If you’re a good girl, I will make you cum. If you’re not...” She could _hear_ the smirk in his voice. “Well. We’re going to see how much your pretty little cunny can take. Right, treasure?”

Her only attempt to answer was cut short when his thumb rolled again. Levy let out a groan and arched her back, shaking her head side to side. 

“Hmmm, is that so?” Gajeel slapped her again, the action dragging another loud cry from between her lips. “You want me to be bad, love? You want me to ruin you?”

 _Yes_ , a part of her called, reaching greedy hands out to him. Yes, her body sang. _Take me and break me and ruin me and have me, make me yours._

So Levy nodded, a soft “ _yes_ ” slipping from her lips, and smiled.

One hand came to grip her neck, claw-tips brushing her skin. The other rested still on her hip, fingers running over the bruises already formed there. Something hard and burning brushed her thigh. A whimper slipped from her lips, feeling the tension in the air. Sparks cracked under her skin, fire simmered somewhere deep inside of her.

Then Gajeel was inside of her, buried all the way to the hilt, body pressed to her so firmly she felt every ridge of his muscles against her skin. She clawed against the bedding, crying and kicking, the pressure against her windpipe enough to make her shake.

“ _Yes_ ” Levy whispered, arching her back as much as she could with half of his weight on her. His laughter filled her ears. “Yes, please, please, don’t stop, don’t stop, _don’t_ —”

“Shut up, love.” He kissed her neck and rolled his hips, rocking her body with the motion. “Use that pretty mouth for something better and moan for me. I don’t care what you say.”

Gajeel kept moving, slow but powerful thrusts, moving her with ease to his wishes. The controlled strength behind his actions, the heat of his breath against her shoulder, the rasp of his voice against her ears—was there anything for her to ask for, when he was making love to her just the way she needed him?

Levy threw her head back and cried when he hit the spot she needed, lifting her hips to meet his thrust. He moved his hand to slap her behind again.

“That’s it, love. Louder. You love my cock, don’t you? You love when I use your cunt for my pleasure. You love when I make you scream.”

At her obvious pleased cries, Gajeel kept going, the repeated onslaught on her sweet spot finally pushing her past the edge and into another orgasm. Levy screamed his name, louder than she had before, the roll of his hips only serving to prolong her bliss. Her vision went white, her toes and fingers growing numb.

When she came back to her senses, Levy was empty and numb, a clawed hand squeezing at her throat while another one trailed over her backside, wet fingers tracing the line between her cheeks.

“You know,” Gajeel whispered, the tip of his thumb brushing against her hole, “I don’t think your cunt is enough for me tonight. I plan to use you for something else tonight, love.”

His thumb, already wet, pushed inside, moving in a slow circular motion. She whined softly and brought one trembling hand to her mouth. He swatted it away with a warning growl. 

Once she grew loose enough, he replaced it with his index finger, then added a second and a third, pushing her apart, spreading her just the way he wanted. Levy moaned, her head cushioned against their bedding, and watched, the skillful touch of his fingers making her shake with excitement. 

She bit back a whimper when his fingers slipped out of her and clumsily propped herself on her elbow, unable to tear her eyes away. Gajeel flashed her a grin, making her cheeks burn as she watched him stroke his member. Already coated with the same lotion he used to loosen her up, he held her eyes as his hand moved up and down. Levy turned away and hid her face into the furs, whining when he laughed at her.

“Hush, love.” He rubbed her back and came closer, kissing the tips of her hair where they touched her skin. “Are you ready? I want you so much.”

“You always do” she hummed. A smile came to her lips when he reached to press a kiss to her cheek. Always there to reassure her, make sure she was alright. “I’m ready.”

He slipped two fingers back inside, pushing against her inner walls until she was loose enough for him. Once satisfied, he pulled them out and slowly, carefully, slid inside.

Levy moaned softly, lifting her hips to ease his entry. Her fingers twitched and shook. When Gajeel pushed all the way inside, so deep his hips pressed against her behind, her eyes filled with tears. He filled her to the brim, pushing against her limits. 

“Gods be good, _yes_ ” she cried softly, pressing her forehead against the bedding. “M-move. Please.”

Gajeel whispered sweet nothings as he moved, his hand steady on her hip. Once he found his pace, his free hand returned to its place on her throat. Just enough pressure to make her melt, to make her moan his name. Inside of her, he was burning, pulsing with heat that made her melt.

His hand slipped from her hip to her core, thumb easily finding her clit. He cursed roughly against her shoulder when she moved to meet his thrusts, his thumb pushing against her in the same moment his cock slid deeper into her. They moved together, his hands doing their magic until she was a crying mess in his hands, begging for her release.

“Good girl” Gajeel whispered, his lips pressed against her shoulder. His voice, usually so steady and firm, turned breathy, the rough rasp only bringing out the power behind. “Cum for me now, sweet treasure.”

His thumb flicked her again and it was enough to make Levy obey his order, her body convulsing as she reached her final peak. She sobbed out his name, whatever strength she had left finally withering away. She crumbled down under him, panting and shaking. 

He held her up, one hand firm on her hip and the other still pressed against her clit, but not moving. Gajeel cursed, claws digging into her skin, and his cock pulsed inside of her, filling her up with his seed. He didn’t loosen his hold until he was done and, panting, slowly pulled out of her. 

And proceed to fall next to her, his chest heaving at his attempt to gather his breath.

Her lungs crying for air, Levy crawled to him and curled into his chest. Gajeel wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head, fingers lazily running through her hair. His touch was gentle, feather-light.

“Don’t do that” she whispered, giggling breathlessly. Her chest ached. “You’re just going to make me fall asleep.”

“That’s the idea, love.” He kissed her cheek, then her lips. “Don’t you want to sleep?”

Levy hummed and rolled on top of him, nesting her head against his chest. Beneath her, she felt the steady beat of his heart, slowing down with each breath. She pressed a kiss to where she knew it was, marveling at the mixture of copper-bronze skin and silver scales.

“I love you” she breathed against him, smiling.

“Thanks and all, but that doesn’t answer my question.”

She hit him.

Gajeel laughed, his shoulders shaking with the motion, and wrapped himself further around her, burying his face into her hair.

“I love you too, treasure.”

“That’s the answer.” Levy rewarded him with a kiss, sighing against his lips. She could almost breathe again.

She closed her eyes as he kept stroking her hair, his fingers working out the knots.

“Gajeel?”

“Hmm?”

“Will you stay with me while I sleep?” 

“Of course, love.” He kissed her temple. “A dragon always protects his treasure.”

Levy smiled and closed her eyes, finally dozing off. Surrounded by his warmth, she felt safe—safer than any other place. 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! come visit my tumblr [pan-princess-levy](http://pan-princess-levy.tumblr.com/)


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